This dog will not do his business... I am exhausted, I mutter to
myself as my breath turns into a mist and cloud before me.
We have essentially walked the entire neighborhood, it is snowing and freezing, and we are 45 minutes in.
“Come on pup, you can do this!”
Finally, he squats on some person’s yard. Mission accomplished, let’s go home! That’s when I realize—I forgot the bag to pick up the mess. I am a 15-minute walk from my house, where the little garbage sacks are. I have a decision to make: Look to the left, look to the right, and get out of there, or find something to pick up my dog’s mess so I can discard it.
As we walk home, I search for one leaf, one newspaper, a fallen tree branch—anything I could find to return and snag that little piece of evidence that proves we were there. But not one helpful material manifests itself. As we go bounding up the steps to the house—grateful to finally be home, warm, and out of the elements—I unleash the dog and tell my wife I’ll be right back. Grabbing the baggie, I slip out the door, sprinting in sleet,
snow, and slosh back to the scene of the crime. Panting, sweating, I bend over and pick up the mess my dog made, and I dash home.
The bag is full, yet somehow my heart is fuller.
This is the kind of person we strive to be in business, at home, in life, whether anyone knows of our actions or not—the person who has just kept a Promise to do what he knows is right. In the darkness, there is light.
Promises are like crying babies in a theater,
they should be carried out at once.
—NORMAN VINCENT PEALE